


Love In The Air

by eternaleponine



Series: Love In Inappropriate Places [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Airplane Sex, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Or is it more than that?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 07:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke finds herself on a last-minute flight to consult on a case at another hospital, only to find that Lexa, her more than occasional hook-up, is on the same flight.  Turbulence leads to panic leads to... well...





	Love In The Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puff614](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puff614/gifts), [DreamsAreMyWords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/gifts).

> For Puff614, who originally suggested airplane sex, and for DreamsAreMyWords, who needed me to write it _right now_.

The problem with emergency medicine was that it happened on someone else's schedule. It wasn't neat and orderly. It didn't make an appointment. There was no time to prepare yourself for what was coming; it just came. 

Sometimes, it came to a hospital that didn't know what to do with it. Sometimes it came to a city where _no one_ knew how to deal with what God or Fate or Murphy and his Damned Law dropped on their doorstep, beyond stabilizing the patient and calling around until they found someone who did.

Which was why Clarke found herself at the airport, dragging a carry-on with a wonky wheel that nearly tipped over every time she hit the slightest bump in the tile, hoping she'd remembered to pack everything she needed... which was really just bras and underwear, because she would be in scrubs most of the time, and toiletries could be bought or begged from the hotel front desk (assuming they were putting her up in a hotel, and assuming it was classy enough to offer those kinds of amenities). 

She didn't mind being called in to consult on cases; she actually enjoyed it. Getting to go new places, meet new people, save new lives... It helped satisfy the travel bug that had gotten under her skin when she was young, and which gnawed at her like a tapeworm (but not really; she'd seen tapeworms and they were disgusting, but they didn't actually work the way people thought they did). She rarely got to travel for fun; the workaholic part of her just couldn't let things go long enough for her to go anywhere.

She clutched her boarding pass, glad that the hospital had been willing to spring for business class so she'd gotten a seat assignment right away, and didn't have to worry about getting stuck in a middle seat between two strangers. She caught sight of the board where the names of those awaiting seats was displayed and did a double take at the second name on the list: Woods, A.

_It can't be,_ Clarke thought. _There are a lot of people with the last name Woods in the world, and plenty of them have the first initial A._

But how many of them were likely to be flying out of this airport, today, on the same day that her... well, they hadn't applied a label to the relationship yet, but it felt like more than friend-with-benefits, but maybe slightly less than girlfriend?... had just booked a flight to visit a sick friend? Her – she shuddered at the word _lover_ because it was so romance-novel – whose name was Woods, Alexandria. 

Even if their destination wasn't the same, with the airline hub system and direct flights to anywhere being almost non-existent unless you lived near one of those hubs, they might still start their journeys on the same flight. 

Clarke craned her neck, surveying the gate area, and ducked when she caught a glimpse of brown hair in a messy bun, stray strands curling against the column of her neck. An expanse of skin that Clarke was intimately familiar with... and the thought of which made her squirm in her seat. The woman next to her glanced over and gave her a disapproving sniff, hugging one of those ugly-ass quilted monstrosities to her chest.

_Calm down, lady,_ Clarke thought. _I'm not here to steal your knitting needles or prunes or whatever you've got in there._ She dared another quick glance in Lexa's direction, just to make absolutely sure it was her, and yeah, there was no mistaking that profile. Clarke bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should just go over, say hello. It wouldn't be awkward... would it? Lexa had brought her lunch at work that one time... but she'd had an ulterior motive. If Clarke approached her, would she think the same?

_Did_ Clarke have an ulterior motive?

Lexa's name moved up to the top of the list, and she got up and went to the desk... and Clarke ducked even lower, because it would only take Lexa looking a little to her left for her to see Clarke. 

"It's a window seat," the gate attendant said. "Is that all right?"

"That's fine," Lexa said, even though Clarke knew she preferred the aisle. Really, she preferred not to fly at all, but like emergencies, illnesses happened on their own schedule, and although Lexa hadn't gone into detail when she'd called Clarke to say she wouldn't be coming over that night, Clarke had gotten the impression that this one had an accelerated timeline, and flying was the only way she was going to get there in time. Lexa took her new boarding pass, flashing a forced smile. "Thank you."

Lexa's name disappeared from the list, and the next person went up, a man with more than his fair share of carry-on items who looked like he thought he was a lot more important than he probably was. Her suspicion was confirmed when he started huffing and puffing when he was told that the only seats left were middle seats. 

"I'm sorry, sir," the gate attendant said. "There was one window seat left – the seat next to yours – but the woman just before you took it. Perhaps once you get to your row, one of your seatmates would be willing to—"

"I need an _aisle_ seat!" the man said. "I have a medical condition!"

The attendant looked at her computer. "I'm sorry, I don't see anything noted, but if you—"

"Never mind," the man huffed, snatching his boarding pass from the counter and stomping away.

Clarke ground her teeth. She hated the thought of giving this man what he wanted... but the attendant _had_ said that the last window seat went to the woman before him. Meaning Lexa. Meaning...

Clarke had an idea.

* * *

Lexa hated flying. Intellectually, she knew it was one of the safest, if not _the_ safest mode of travel, but that didn't change the fact that she was trapped in a metal tube slicing through the air miles above the ground, crammed in like a sardine with a hundred-plus other people with questionable health and hygiene, and—

"Is this seat taken?"

Lexa looked up, nearly banging her head against the wall that curved above her. "_Clarke_?"

Clarke smiled and slid into the seat next to Lexa. "Hey."

"Hey," Lexa said, not meaning to sound wary, but she was _so confused_. What was Clarke – her maybe-girlfriend – doing on the plane? She hadn't mentioned anything about flying anywhere. Was she... could she possibly be _following_ Lexa? But that didn't make any sense. She wasn't the jealous type (at least she didn't seem to be; they spent more time communicating with body language than words most days...), and she had no reason to be threatened anyway. Luna was a friend, nothing more (_and nothing less_, Lexa thought stubbornly). There was no reason for Clarke to feel the need to check up on her.

"I got called in on a case," Clarke explained. "They needed me to fly in ASAP. What are the odds, right?"

Lexa nodded. It made sense. Clarke was an expert in her field, and she'd mentioned before that she occasionally got called in to consult on cases at other hospitals. It also made sense that she wouldn't have said anything about it sooner, because she wouldn't have _known_ sooner. Still, what _were_ the odds that they would end up on the same flight, sitting next to each other? A thousand to one? A million? 

_Don't overthink it,_ she told herself. _She's here. She's not going anywhere._ And, more quietly even in her own head, _Would you really want her to?_

Because Clarke being here meant she wasn't alone. Clarke being here meant she might not spend the next several hours obsessing over Luna, who had gotten suddenly, critically ill, and the clock was ticking and if Lexa didn't get there in time, she might not get a chance to say goodbye, if it came to that. Hopefully it wouldn't. Hopefully...

The intercom crackled on, and the plane lurched as they pushed away from the gate. Lexa gripped her armrests, her knuckles white, and Clarke made a soft noise that might have been a laugh, but then she pried the hand near her off and held it between her own, and Lexa sucked in a breath. 

"It's okay," Clarke said softly, leaning over so her lips almost brushed Lexa's shoulder. "You're okay." 

Lexa nodded tensely and tried not to crush Clarke's fingers as they taxied to the runway and the noise of the plane magnified. Then, before she was ready, they were hurtling down the tarmac, and her stomach lurched as the nose tipped up and they left the ground completely. 

"Shh," Clarke soothed her, rubbing her thumb over Lexa's in a way that was oddly intimate, and soothing, and, well... it wasn't just Lexa's thumb that felt it. 

After a few banking turns that seemed more suited to a fighter jet than a giant passenger monstrosity, they leveled out, and Lexa managed to gulp in a full breath. She looked over at Clarke, who smiled in understanding. Her grip loosened slightly, but she didn't let go, and neither did Lexa.

"Movie?" Clarke suggested. "It might take your mind off things." 

"You choose," Lexa said. 

She watched as Clarke scrolled through the offerings, finally settling on a comedy that didn't look too cringey, and Lexa chose the same. It took a couple of tries, but they finally managed to get their screens as synched as they could and settled in for an hour and change worth of distraction. 

It didn't last. 

Half an hour into the movie, it paused and the words 'Announcement in Progress' popped up on the screen. Lexa pulled out one of her earbuds to hear the captain's voice advising them that there was some weather ahead, and they would be holding off on in-flight service until they were through the worst of it, and they were all asked – even the flight attendants – to remain in their seats with their seatbelts fastened until the sign was turned off. 

The movie came back on, but a minute later they hit their first bump in the air (and how the hell could there be _bumps_ in the _air_?) and Lexa gasped. Clarke's fingers tightened around hers, but it didn't help. Canned laughter echoed through her headphones, and that didn't help either. This wasn't funny. Nothing about this was funny. 

The plane lurched again, and Lexa clenched her eyes shut and did something she hadn't done in years:

She started to pray.

* * *

The movie kept playing, but Clarke was too focused on Lexa to pay any attention. She watched her lips move but couldn't read the words on them. As the turbulence intensified, a tear streaked down Lexa's cheek. Clarke reached over to brush it away without thinking, and Lexa's eyes cracked open. Clarke tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear and let her fingers linger along her jaw. "I'm here," she said. She didn't know what good the words would do, if any, but she said them anyway, because she wanted Lexa to know. She was here, and she wasn't going anywhere. "What can I do?"

Lexa shook her head. "I don't want to be here," she said. "I don't—"

"I know," Clarke told her. "I know." But they were stuck, and there was nothing Clarke could do to get them back on the ground any faster. She caught Lexa's chin and drew her in, brushing her lips against Lexa's, and felt her exhale, a tiny bit of tension leaving her, so Clarke kissed her again, a little more firmly. Lexa pulled away after a second, but only so she could put up the arm rest between them so it wasn't digging into their ribs as they pressed as close together as their seatbelts would allow. 

Clarke dared a glance at the man on her right, who had put a pair of noise-canceling headphones and a neck pillow on as soon as he sat down and had been out like a light before they'd even reached cruising altitude. Even the rocking and rolling of the plane didn't seem to disturb him, and Clarke wondered if he was really that chill, or if he'd taken more than the recommended dose of some kind of tranquilizer to get him through. 

_Whatever you do, don't have a medical emergency,_ she thought at him. _I don't want to deal with it._

She looked across the aisle, but the woman and two kids sitting there were completely engrossed in the screens in front of them. Which meant no one was paying any attention to what was happening over here. Which meant she just might be able to help Lexa escape, if only for a little while.

She pulled the thin airline blanket she'd grabbed from the seat pocket of her business class seat (the asshole she'd traded seats with to be able to sit next to Lexa could freeze for all she cared) from her bag and spread it across their laps. It only just barely covered... but just barely was enough. She slid her hand under the blanket and let it roam over Lexa's thigh, starting near her knee but working her way up, her nails dragging over the soft, stretchy material of her yoga pants. She tried to keep her eyes on the movie, even as she registered none of the words, but it was hard not to sneak peeks over at Lexa when she felt her squirm beneath her touch.

Lexa looked at her, wide-eyed, as Clarke quickly, quietly unfastened Lexa's seatbelt. They hadn't turned off the light, but the ride had smoothed out enough that Clarke wasn't worried about them getting tossed out of their seats, and it was in the way.

"What are you—" Lexa started to ask, but didn't finish, because before she could get the words out Clarke had wiggled her fingers under the waistband of Lexa's pants, and her underwear beneath them, through the thatch of hair between her legs and into the slick heat of her core.

And she _was_ hot, and wet, and Clarke bit her lip as her own body answered, her nipples fighting against her bra to make their presence known. _This isn't about you,_ Clarke told them. _This is about Lexa._

Lexa, who had shifted in her seat to give Clarke a better angle as she began, ever-so-slowly, to circle her clit with the tip of her middle finger. Clarke watched her out of the corner of her eye, the rise and fall of her chest and the way the tendons and ligaments in her neck strained, her white-knuckled grip on her arm rest that had nothing (or at least a hell of a lot less) to do with fear, and the growing flush in her cheeks as Clarke found her rhythm...

* * *

She should stop her. Lexa knew she should stop Clarke, knew that this was inappropriate (possibly illegal?) but she didn't – couldn't – say the word. She couldn't say anything, because she was too busy gasping for breath without it sounding like that's what she was doing, because she didn't – couldn't – alert anyone around them to what was happening beneath the blanket on her lap. 

And if she was being honest, she didn't _want_ Clarke to stop. She never wanted Clarke to stop, once she started, because she had never once failed to get Lexa off, which still felt like a miracle because there were times when Lexa couldn't even get _herself_ off. 

She fought back a giggle as she realized she'd been praying for deliverance from fear, for release... and Clarke had answered. So all of those times when she'd gasped, 'God, Clarke...' maybe she hadn't been blaspheming after all. 

They hit another rough patch of air, but this time the quickening of Lexa's breath had nothing to do with fear of plunging from the sky to certain death, but instead was a response to how the jolting of the plane seemed almost to time itself to Clarke's hand between her legs, adding pressure just when and where Lexa needed it, and if anyone heard her gasp and moan as her orgasm crashed through her, well... she hoped they would just chalk it up to the lurching of the plane. 

Another, less intense tremor rippled through her, and she pressed her face into Clarke's shoulder to stifle the soft whimper that escaped when Clarke finally withdrew her hand. Clarke turned to look at her, and Lexa kissed her, in thanks and in love, and—

_Not love,_ she told herself. _In lust, not love._

But she wasn't very good at lying to herself.

She fastened her seat belt again and edged the blanket more fully onto Clarke's lap. Clarke looked over at her and opened her mouth to say something, but Lexa cut her off with another kiss, and when she pulled away again, Clarke's mouth still hung open, but her eyes, glazed with desire, said everything that needed to be said. 

Lexa untied the drawstring of Clarke's scrubs and eased her hand inside, unsurprised to find her underwear already soaked with her arousal. She could have taken it slow, could have teased Clarke until she was silently begging, but the air might clear at any time, and as soon as it did the flight attendants would be up and down the aisles, asking if they wanted snacks or anything to drink, and Lexa was sure as hell thirsty, but not for juice or soda. 

And from the way Clarke arched into her touch, grinding her hips under Lexa's hand, she wasn't in the mood for teasing anyway. So Lexa just went for it, rubbing her as fast and hard as she could without giving the game away, and as she climaxed, Clarke managed to thrust her hips hard enough to drive Lexa's finger into her, so she felt her clench, Clarke's thighs clamped around her hand until the pressure eased and she relaxed back, her eyes cracking open and a smug smirk curving her lips. 

Lexa withdrew her hand, retrieving a tissue from her bag to wipe it, and smoothed the blanket back over them. She let her head drop to Clarke's shoulder, and felt Clarke's head rest against it as their fingers entwined once more. 

Lexa wasn't sure when – or how – she dozed off, but when she woke again the movie was over, there were cookies and snack mix stashed in her seat pocket, and they had already begun their descent. She lifted her head and rubbed at her cheek, which she was sure was creased from Clarke's shirt. Clarke looked over and squeezed her hand.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Clarke said, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Emphasis on the beauty."

Warmth flooded Lexa's face and slowly trickled downward, twining around her heart before settling in her core. "I know you are, but what am I?" she countered, and Clarke laughed. 

"Almost on the ground again," Clarke answered. "Do you have a connecting flight, or...?"

Lexa shook her head. "You?"

"No." Clarke paused and her forehead furrowed. "What hospital is your friend in?"

"Atlantic Medical Center," Lexa said. "Why?" But then it clicked. "What's your patient's name?"

Clarke shook her head. "I can't tell you that."

"Is it Luna Waters?" Lexa asked. 

Clarke hesitated, then nodded, and squeezed Lexa's hand. "She's going to be okay," she said. 

"How do you know?" Lexa asked. 

"Because you love her, and I love you, and I'm not letting you get your heart broken," Clarke said. And then blinked, her cheek denting in as she bit into it, as if to stop herself from saying anything else that she didn't mean... or meant but hadn't meant to say. 

"Where are you staying tonight?" Lexa asked. "Do you have a hotel?"

"I'm sure they've booked something, but—"

"Stay with me," Lexa said. "It's near the hospital. Please... stay with me."

Clarke nodded, and Lexa kissed her, then kissed her again, only stopping when the flight attendants began their final sweep of the cabin before landing. Lexa clung to her as the plane descended, not smoothly but in lurches that made her glad she hadn't been awake for the snacks. Finally they hit the ground, and the rapid deceleration rocked them forward. The taxi to the gate felt like it was miles long, and happened at a snail's pace, and then there was the interminable wait for everyone in the seats ahead of them to get off the plane. 

Finally it was their turn, and they heaved their bags down from the overhead bin and made their way down the aisle and up the skybridge and out. Lexa blinked in the brightness of the terminal and turned to look at Clarke, who was right behind her. 

Lexa reached for her hand, and Clarke let herself be reeled in to a kiss that left them both a little weak-kneed. 

"Thank you," Lexa murmured. "For everything."

Clarke smirked. "My pleasure," she said. 

Lexa couldn't help laughing, even as she shook her head, burying her face against Clarke's neck, letting her lips skim along her throat to just behind her ear. "Oh, and Clarke?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you too."


End file.
